Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I take several calming breaths, trying to get my shit under control before I have to go into my shift at the bar. The problem with such a small, out-of-the-way place as The Lost Kitten, it doesn't attract many strangers. That would normally be a good thing, only the regulars here don't see the need to tip very well. My grand plans of saving money and moving to the other side of the country will take me forever with the way folks inside tip.
I fix my rearview mirror, having made the mistake of not moving it back before, and nearly wrecking, trying to do it while driving home one night. Lesson learned on that one for sure. These roads around here are no joke. Even if the twists and turns aren't bad enough, you never know when a damn deer or bear is going to decide that right when you're driving by is the best time to jump out into the street.
Before I can open my driver's side door, the roar of a motorcycle draws all my attention. But instead of it driving down the road, it grows closer and closer until the bastard has the damn nerve to park right beside my car.
Anger swims inside of me, but instead of popping out of my car and clawing at his face, I smile. This kill them with kindness isn't working, and it makes me smile wider to think that I may need to try poison next.
I open my door and climb out of my car as if he isn't even standing there.
But when I glance over at him, he's busy pulling off his helmet, acting as if I don't exist. Who the hell does this man think he is?
Maybe I am the problem.
Maybe he's just a man who wants to drink a beer in complete silence and be left the hell alone. I can't fault him for that. I can't insert myself into his life just because he exists in the periphery of mine.
Coming to that conclusion does nothing to tamp down my anger. Common courtesy is a thing, and even the surliest asshole in the world should at least adhere to social norms and acknowledge people.
His lack of attention chaps my ass like a pair of leather pants until I'm to the point of simmering and standing right in front of him, my finger jabbing him in the chest like I have any right to touch him. But he broke that rule first earlier today, didn't he?
"I'm just trying to be nice," I snap, each word one more jab to his rock-solid chest. "You have no reason to be a dick."
"I'm not a man you need to be tangled up with."
I pull back my hand, cradling it to my chest, taken aback that he actually responded verbally instead of jacking me up with his hands clamped on my upper arms and demanding that I never touch him again.
I scoff. "Tangled?"
I shake my head, my smile widening when he looks confused by my response.
"I just want a quick fuck. Tangled is the last damn thing I want."
I know he sees the way my eyes widen with my words. I've had some not-so-clean thoughts about this man. He's gorgeous. I imagine every woman he encounters, who is missing an ounce of self-preservation, has had such thoughts about him. What I didn't expect is for those words to come bubbling out of my damn mouth.
My body thrums with possibilities when that dimple in his cheek deepens just the slightest bit. I imagine it's the closest thing I'll ever get to a smile from him.
I clap a hand over my mouth and shove past him, my cheeks flaming with heat by the time I make it to the front door of the bar.
Thick, recycled air hits me in the face, a drastic difference from the clean, cool air outside, but it's not like I could exactly breathe any easier around the man I left standing in the parking lot.
"If all you want is to get fucked, Zara, then that's something I can easily give you."
I freeze with his warmth at my back. My heart pounds in my chest as if he'd fulfill that promise right now with the ten or so people inside staring at us.
Edith smiles from behind the bar.
Jersey, one of the regulars and a man who flirts with me constantly despite having a wife and three kids at home, narrows his eyes at the sight of us, making me realize how it looks.
The people watching us in the bar have no idea we've arrived separately. From the smirks on a few faces, I know they think differently. I can only imagine the lies my reddened face is telling right now.
I clear my throat and step further into the bar, ignoring the man who has no business saying such things to me, despite what I mentioned to him out in the parking lot.